


Words

by WahlBuilder



Series: 30 days of rarepairs [9]
Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sleepy Cuddles, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 19:10:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13817610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: Anton wakes up because his bed partner wants to get up, and they have some fun with words.





	Words

**Author's Note:**

> AKA 'Whoops I Have Created Yet Another Ship'.

A stir woke Anton, and he should have jumped to his feet. At least, he should have reached under his pillow for his nailgun.

Instead, he tightened his hold on the round shoulder, pressed himself to the warm back of the body sharing the nest with him, and asked, his voice raspy, “Where the fuck are you going?”

The body beside him stopped twitching, and an equally raspy voice said, “Some of us have bodily urges. Go back to sleep.”

 _Bodily urges_ , huh. Fancy.

He thought of a word he had learned recently.

_Dither: a highly nervous or agitated state._

He had made it his goal to learn a new word every day, even though his boys would stare at him without comprehension if he used most of those new words.

He knew other words, too, those they would understand.

_Стукач. A fink, snitch, snout. An informant._

He wondered what Vik would say if he threw it to Vik’s face.

Anton nuzzled dark hair, damp from sweat in the heat of their little nest. Anton kept his head completely shorn—the less leverage and things to yank at for his opponents in a fight, the better—but he liked ruffling Vik’s hair, pulling it to kiss moans off Vik’s lips, watching Vik try to smooth it into compliance.

Vik, too, knew a lot of interesting, clever words—Anton’s boys stared at him often. Anton liked how Vik’s lips wove them.

_Exquisite, adroit._

Vik tried very, very hard not to flinch at the words Anton’s boys used not to curse, but to speak with. _Fuck. Cunt._

_Fink, fink, fink…_

Languid, Anton felt warmth rolling over his body, and with how close Vik was, their skin glued together, it wasn’t difficult to start rutting against him.

_Frottage: an act of obtaining sexual stimulation by rubbing against a person or an object._

A moan sounded from his partner, but not one of pleasure and more of frustration. Vik didn’t try to get out, though, and Anton was fine with bringing himself off by rubbing against Vik’s flat ass.

“I really need to go.”

Did he? Anton pressed his teeth to the round shoulder, but changed his mind and kissed it instead of biting. Salt and spice. Then purred, “Vitya.”

“ _Tosha_.”

He stopped. Fuck him if Vik whispering this form of his name didn’t make him want to do stupid things that were only possible here, in the stiffling heat of their nest. Things like smiling and laughing and kissing Vik’s mouth, morning breath be damned.

Vik started squirming, and Anton sighed and rolled away, grabbing the blankets and fluffing them over himself, but despite this he already missed the warmth of the body pressed to his, all long limbs and angles and elbows that always threatened to kick him in the ribs. “Fine, fine. Just be quick.”

He listened to Vik padding away. Thought idly about things he would do when Vik returned…

_Perfidious, mendacious._

The paffing returned, and Anton shifted under the blankets but didn’t hold them open. “C’mere, it’s fucking cold.”

A weight landed on his chest, and he twisted, trying to move the blankets away, but then he yelped as his face was exposed to the chill of the room.

He bit back a curse, looking into Vik’s eyes, and realised he didn’t know what color they were. He never paid attention to the color, only to emotions in them.

“Cease the torrent of obscenities!”

It was such a perfect opportunity Anton wasn’t sure Vik hadn’t planned it. And Antont took it, grinning. “Fucking make me.”

Which probably wasn’t the best idea, since his arms were trapped under the blankets and Vik’s weight, but Vik kissed him hard, so Anton wasn’t complaining.

_Admired, treasured._

_Traitor._


End file.
